The Kiss
by xXChocaholicXx
Summary: Steve alludes to the fact that he has been kissed before the mall fiasco with Natasha, but what were the circumstance that led America's golden boy to romance?


Steve didn't really want to be there, honestly. Some people would sell their left arm to be invited to a infamous Stark party, but Steve Rogers would have much rather been at the gym hitting something, or curled up in his Brooklyn apartment relaxing with a novel. His tux felt constricting, although it was perfectly tailored for him (he didn't really want to question how Ms. Potts knew his inseam), and too thin and flimsy after a week in his suit. He had returned from an extended mission late the night before and after a shower and long night of sleep he hadn't really had time to decompress yet before being dragged to a shindig to meet Thor's best gal.

Thor was apparently back on Earth for the foreseeable future and because of that, Tony felt that it was important to "vet" the poor lady who had apparently stolen the Thunder God's heart. Steve had an inkling that Tony was really more interested in talking the science behind the latest alien attack in Greenwich than making sure Dr. Foster wasn't stringing poor lovable Thor along, but never the less, he had flown the Asgardian Prince, the good Doctor, and her loyal intern in on his private jet a few days ago. This left Steve and Natasha as the only two of the team to never have met the ladies in person, but Steve would bet his button that Natasha had more intel on the dames than they knew about each other. So, always a team player, Steve had suited up for a night battling the evil of awkward silences and protection of the earth from Tony's raucousness.

Steve had tried to be late, he really did, but his Ma had raised him to be a gentleman, and the Brothers at his boyhood school had ingrained the rightness of punctuality in so deep that he found himself rounding the corner at precisely eight o'clock. He heard the mumbled swears long before he saw the source, but his lips quirked in amusement when he finally saw the petite brunette hopping around trying to reach the tag hanging just beyond her grasp. She made another full rotation before she noticed his shoes, and he detected the slight blush that crept across her pale skin as her gaze made its way up his body before finally settling on his face.

For as mortified she seemed when they finally made eye contact, she collected herself quite quickly as she stood up straight, smoothed down her dress and stuck out her hand for Steve to shake. "Hey there, I'm Darcy Lewis. You must be the Captain."

Steve smiled as he took her hand and secretly admired her firm handshake and the fact she never broke eye contact. "Please, call me Steve ma'am." Her face scrunched up at that and as she withdrew her hand replied, " Only if you promise to never call me ma'am again."

Steve let out a little chuckle, "Square deal, Miss Lewis. Now, is there something I can help you with?"

Darcy breezily pushed her bangs off her face and started talking very quickly. " Call me Darcy, and its this stupid dress tag that decided to stay hidden until I was about to be late for this awesome party, and Tony would have given me so much grief if he had seen it and now I AM late and Jane's going to give me that _look_ and be annoyed that I made her look away from Thor." She squinted at him, with a noticeable glance to his muscled arms still perceptible beneath his well-tailored suit jacket, " but it seems that I may have found a hero to rescue me from total humiliation."

Steve chortled, eyes twinkling, " I have fought many enemies, but I think this is the first time I've gone up against women's fashion." He circled his finger and Darcy obediently twirled so he could have easier access to the tag in question.

As he approached, Darcy scoffed, "I find that hard to believe, I mean I have heard that you started your career as a showgirl." Steve leaned over her shoulder, form towering over her as he glowered, " you've been around Tony for too long." Then, focusing in attention on the tag and trying to gauge how much strength he would need.

Darcy's laugh rang out, "that scowl smells like truth Cap'n, but don't let me sound ungrateful, I really do appreciate this. I swear to Thor's muscly chest that designers do this on purpose to make girls with short arms and big boobs look like fools."

Steve's attention slipped for just long enough at this exclamation that as his eyes unwittingly flickered to the aforementioned body part; a small ripping noise was heard in the subsequent silence. Steve immediately started to spew apologies as Darcy craned her neck trying to see.

"Steve. I need you to stop apologizing and give me a status report solider. How extensive is that damage?" Steve peered closely at the tear, his mind calculating, " ya' know, it's actually not that bad. I could probably fix it right up with a needle and some thread. I have a small sewing kit back in my room, if you don't mind being late… later, I mean," punctuating that last part with a sheepish rubbing of the back of his head.

"Okay, but this requires that you accompany me in like a proper escort to help deflect the ire that is sure to be directed at me." A gleam flashed through her eyes that made Steve nervous, but it was soon forgotten as he started to make the return trip back to his room, Darcy trotting along beside him. The short walk was marked by a comfortable silence, which followed them into Steve's room. Steve's mind had been occupied with locating the small kit and removing his outer jacket to allow for better movement, when he heard Darcy's thoughtful "so this is what the great Captain America's room looks like. It's kind of bare, even for a solider," punctuated by a questioning look his way.

Steve collected his tools and started prepping the needle, "I don't actually live here full time; I have an apartment in Brooklyn that I spend most of my time in. This room is mostly to crash in after long missions and the like." He heard her murmur a general consenting noise and keep, what he assumed, snooping about the room, but when he finished tying the knot and looked up to ask her for the dress, his question died in his throat with a strangled noise. Darcy was looking at him expectantly, dress already in hand, with Steve's dress jacket wrapped around her, falling to about her mid-thigh. She even had her heels still on. The smile she sent him was devilish, and he suddenly thought back to the time where a pretty blonde dame had flashed him a similar smile. He had been thoroughly kissed… and then shot at…. by … And _that_ was enough to help him piece his focus back together. A cool façade took its place on his facial features, and he sent her a quick grin with his thanks, not letting the nervousness seep back through. He made quick work of the slight tear, and was soon turning his back so Darcy could don her slinky red dress, and resolutely tried to ignore her giggles at his perceived innocence.

They were on their way back down the hall before Darcy broke the silence, " So depression or Army?"

Steve glanced down at his companion confused, "Come again?" They both paused and turned to look at one another as Darcy offered up an explanation, "Where did you learn to sew? Darning socks or stitching battle wounds?" Steve leaned casually up against the wall behind him and thought about it for a second, " well once Bucky and I were on our own, we always had to make sure that things lasted, and that carried over for the army as well, once I started real missions that is." Darcy gazed up at the man reminiscing and a soft smile found her face, " I can't get a good read on you Cap'n, your so military manly, yet so artistly sensitive that I'm getting the feeling that you're a lot more complex than anyone in this time has ever given you credit for."

Steve for his part wasn't feeling so complex at the movement as her earnest contemplation ensnared him. The silence hung heavy for a beat of the heart and he gave a slight smirk of his own as he caught Darcy's gaze drop to his own lips, her tongue wetting her own full, red lips. He leaned in and down, drawing close enough to hear her breath hitch, and spoke in a lower octave than normal, "I'm also not as clueless as most people believe." Darcy had a split second to look confused before Steve closed the gap between them and press a chaste kiss onto her lips. He did however pull away before it could progress any further, and as Darcy attempted to gather her thoughts, all former bravado slipped from Steve's rigid form. He waited one beat, then two, and was about to start apologizing when Darcy glanced up, that same devilish grin returning to its place of honor. "Well then Captain Rodgers, you can do better than that." Reaching up and pulling him down, Steve was drawn in to a dizzying kiss, which ended a few moments later as abruptly as it had begun.

Darcy untangled herself from Steve (he found himself wondering when they had tangled themselves up in the first place), and as that thought passed out of his head; Darcy had already fixed up her smudged lipstick and mussed hair. She flashed him a sparkling smile and offered her arm to him with a sunny "shall we?"

Steve shook his head in wonder and chuckled, taking her arm in his and they squared themselves up to enter through the grandiose double doors.

The assembled group all looked up at the sound of the doors in time to watch the couple enter the decorated space. Darcy ignored them in favor of turning to Steve and straightening his bow tie with a quick wink, " Thanks for the help with my dress Captain Rodgers, next time you could take me out to dinner if you wanted me to take it off, you don't have to rip it." At that announcement she sashayed towards the glistening flutes of champagne and gawking Jane, leaving Steve to the scrutinizing looks of the other party-goers.

Tony looked especially awestruck, " Is that lipstick on your face?! My little Steve's all grown up and becoming a man!"

* * *

**_Sometime later..._**

Natasha looked over at him while he drove in their "borrowed car", amusement clear on her features, "Was that your first kiss since 1945?"

Steve looked at her skeptically and slightly offended, "No. That was not my first kiss since 1945. I'm 95, I'm not dead." Natasha looked liked she was going to argue for a second but thankfully skipped over asking for further details. Steve released some of the tension in his body as his eyes found the road again, a slight smile twitching at his lips as he thought about how his pen pal would be reacting to all of Natasha's attempts to set him up with someone. He would have to remember to write her when he had the chance, otherwise she would probably start thinking he was dead. At least she was still safe in London with Jane.

* * *

Author's note: I've had this idea in my head ever since watching The Winter Solider the night it came out. But as I typically hate writing, this as been slow coming, and if that last scene is slightly off I was going largely off of my memory. So I apologize for that. But thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: Marvel owns all and I own naught but my OTP beliefs.


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